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life.”
    â€œIs that a fact?” I said, cool as a Borzoi.
    â€œLook, cousin, I found the first news difficult to believe, and now this . Give me a break.”
    He pushed his chair back and got up.
    â€œWait a minute here,” he said, leaning over me, so close I could see his tonsils. “Are you telling me my name was on it?” he whispered. “That it was addressed to me? Is that why you’re here?”
    â€œNo. Should it have been? Addressed to you?”
    He just shook his head.
    â€œPaul, were you and my cousin still going together when this happened?”
    â€œNo,” he said, pushing the chair back against the table so hard it moved the table closer to me. He began to walk away.
    Good, I thought. At least one of us was telling the truth. His name hadn’t appeared in Lisa’s calendar since January 11.
    And that time, it had been crossed out.
    â€œWhen did you break up?” I asked his back.
    But he didn’t bother to answer me. Without turning around or saying good-bye, he disappeared down the stairs that led to the pool.

7
    How Long Will It Take?
    At ten thirty that night, after I had practiced the form alone in the garden, Dashiell and I headed back to Bank Street T’ai Chi. Avi opened the door before we reached the landing, his finger to his lips. Without speaking, I dropped my jacket onto one of the couches, changed into Lisa’s black cotton shoes, and followed him onto the floor.
    Standing behind Avi, I could see the strength of his movements, as if he were moving not through air but water—not springwater, cleansed of all impurities, but ocean water, thick with salt and life. It was as if he were swimming in the air.
    After three hours of work Avi stopped, and we walked to the couches in the area between the office and the studio and sat opposite each other.
    â€œHow did you and Lisa meet?”
    â€œSo late, and still your head is full of questions,” he said.
    â€œYou said, first the t’ai chi, then the questions.”
    Avi sat silently.
    â€œYou didn’t mean after I learn the whole form?”
    Was he meditating, looking straight ahead like that at nothing, as if he hadn’t heard my question?
    â€œOr not even then, right? When I get to the end of the form, you’ll tell me we need to do corrections, that I am not good enough yet to ask you questions. Is that it? I am working so hard, staying up all night learning t’ai chi, and you will never help me learn what I need to know.”
    He lifted his big hand like a stop sign.
    â€œA student once asked his teacher, ‘Master, how long will it take me to learn Zen?’ ‘Ten years,’ the master told him. ‘But what if I work extra hard, then how long?’ Twenty years,’ the master replied.”
    â€œAvi, I—”
    â€œYou are so busy thinking about the destination, you cannot keep your mind on the journey.”
    â€œAvram, my aunt and uncle have asked me to help them understand the death of their daughter. They are in pain.”
    â€œAnd they will not be in pain when you tell them why she is gone?”
    Now I was the one who was silent.
    â€œAvram,” I said after a moment, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t have ten years for this.”
    â€œThen we should stop wasting time. Tomorrow come earlier, come at seven.”
    I stood and picked up my jacket.
    â€œI am only trying to help you make room for Lisa,” he said, “so that you will understand her.”
    â€œYeah, yeah,” I said. “It’s like dog training.”
    â€œLike dog—”
    â€œSome people approach a dog so full of themselves, there is no room for the dog. They are full of ideas, full of answers. They think they know everything there is to know. And without looking at what is in front of them, they are sure that when the dog misbehaves, it’s out of spite. They are so busy grabbing,